The Scarlet Scar
by ScarletSeraph
Summary: Harlot. Murderer. Martyr. Everyone has their reasons for the things they do. These are Scarlet's. Reposted with new, disimproved, lower rating!
1. Birth: Creation

_ ** Standard Disclaimer: ** Final Fantasy VII, its characters, its cities, and the company of Shin-Ra, Inc. are the property of Square. I claim no rights to any of these concepts. Rebeka and the dark-eyed men, however, are my own creations. _

_ ** Author's Note: ** Chapters One, Two, and Three, as of June 26, 2002, have been updated to reflect a moment of inspiration in the form of a more suitable origin for Scarlet's name. _

* * *

Charlotte narrowed her eyes, sliding the screwdriver's point into the crack at the end of the toaster. 

Gently, she began to wedge the tool into the appliance; every now and then giving it a firmer nudge to widen the rift where the sides of the item joined. A gleam of delight came into sapphire eyes as the plasti-coated metal buckled, and she poised her hand for the final thrust that would separate the sheets complet - 

"Charlotte!" 

The six-year-old jumped at the sound of her mother's voice and dropped the screwdriver; which rolled away, unnoticed, to rest beneath the sagging sofa. Contriving the most innocent expression she was capable of, Charlotte raised her head to appraise the older woman's temperament. "...hi Mommy." 

Rebeka Kirana shook her head. "What have I told you about taking things apart?" 

The girl blinked once and replied instantly, "Not to?" Well, _ that _ was a stupid question. It wasn't as if she didn't know the answer, as often as it left her mother's mouth. It was just that she didn't _ care, _ which was another thing entirely. 

"Then why do you _ insist _ ...forget it. I don't have time to deal with this today." Ignoring the squeal of protest that resulted, Rebeka bent over and scooped the child into her arms. 

"Lemme go lemme go lemme _ go!" _ Charlotte whined, squirming helplessly against her grasp. "I'm bored!" 

"Why don't you buy the kid a doll or somethin', Becky?" The inquiry came from the man leaning against the doorframe; most likely another of her mother's boytoys. Dark-suited, with piercing eyes and a shoulder-length ponytail of similar chroma, he certainly _ looked _ every part of the successful type of man Rebeka preferred to dally with in the hopes of reaping more than simply physical benefits. He crossed his arms languidly and lofted a brow, waiting for the reply. 

"Take a look around. Does it look like I can afford to buy her toys?" Rebeka snapped, turning to face him. "I have a hard enough time keeping her _ fed, _ let alone entertained." 

That, at least, was true enough. When her various paramours did pass her a handful of wadded bills to help ease her way, she tended to fritter them away quickly on comforts for herself; leaving the tiny flat she and her daughter inhabited in near-squalid shape. Little more than a hovel in the slums of Midgar to begin with, the disinterest Rebeka showed for trying to improve her surroundings had quickly reduced the environment even further - a situation that had only worsened more after the birth of her child. Walls and floor alike were a sickly grayish hue, lacquered on from years of accumulating dirt and grime; and what furniture there was was broken and stained, the majority of it pulled home from trash depositories. 

Tired of wriggling to no avail, Charlotte opened her mouth and latched onto Rebeka's arm. 

The woman's reaction was instantaneous; releasing the hyperactive child to drop onto the sofa. Briefly, she regarded the reddening marks on the back of her wrist; a thin trickle of blood welling where a tooth had managed sink in more deeply before being torn away. "Brat!" she hissed, wiping the crimson fluid away with a fingertip and raising her hand again; this time to strike her daughter sharply across the mouth. 

Charlotte whimpered, blinking rapidly a few times as her eyes filled with tears. She knew better than to wail, however, now that Rebeka's patience had worn thin. Abruptly tasting the copper of blood on her own tongue, she sought its source, finally pushing the end of the pinkish muscle into the gap created by the knocking free of a previously-loose baby tooth. 

"You had best be in bed when I get home," Rebeka warned her as she snatched her coat from the back of a chair. Without another word, she picked her way to the door. The man standing there already watched the child for another moment; then shook his head quietly and followed the woman out. 

Charlotte waited until the sound of footsteps in the hall had died away, then slid from the sofa. Her tears dried quickly as she gathered the pieces of the broken toaster; eyes needed to survey the parts in her lap. As near as she could tell, the only thing missing was the screwdriver, and that was easily taken care of. 

She set the mass of metal and wire aside and sprawled out on the floor in front of the sofa, one small hand stretching forward to fish through the mess beneath it. Her fingers passed over a lump that could have been anything from carpet bits to rat hairballs and she wrinkled her nose, but her efforts were rewarded as they closed around the cool, glassy handle of the instrument. Pulling it free, the girl straightened and began re-assembling the pieces of the makeshift puzzle. 

* * * 

"... _ told _ her to go to bed." 

"Hey, she's asleep. What more do you expect? You leave the kid alone in a dark flat in the slums on a regular basis. She's probably scared to death of going back there." 

Charlotte blinked sleepily, yawning. Oops. She really _ had _ meant to take her toaster into the back of the flat, but the light there was far less than sufficient to see where the sharp edges on the metal were. It had taken longer than she'd originally expected to peel away the outer coating, as well. She must have drifted off and not realized it, and now there was going to be hell to pay. 

"Get your ass back there, girl! Move it!" Rebeka glowered at her daughter as soon as her eyes were in range of catching the expression. The child simply nodded, murmuring a frightened, "Yes, Mommy," and scambling to her feet. 

The dark-suited man stepped forward. "I'll take her," he offered, not bothering to wait for an agreement from her mother before capturing the girl. As she had in her mother's hands, she squealed and kicked her heels. He merely curled his other arm beneath her knees and strode to the tiny bedroom. 

Plunked unceremoniously onto the thirdhand bed, Charlotte abandoned the battered toaster and drew her knees to her chest, sniffling. "I'm sorry," she whispered, daring a brief peek at the man. 

He smiled quietly, dropping a hand to the top of her head and ruffling her hair. "Sure, kid," he replied easily. "No problem. I think maybe you ought to stop using your mom's kitchen as a toybox, though." His fingers retreated from the wispy, golden strands, and he reached inside his coat to withdraw an object from a pocket in the lining. "G'night." With a wink, he stepped through the door; turning at the last second to toss the gift to the child. 

What little light that did filter into the room was cut off as he closed the door, and despite her best efforts to catch it, it struck her in the chest - albeit with less force than she had expected. She scooped it from her knees, crawling across the bed to pull back the curtains with free hand and examine her prize. 

A doll; no more than six inches in height and crafted completely of soft, clean cloth. Its hair, loops of coiled, yellow ribbon, was arranged in two lengthy braids; and its face was painted on with careful strokes of a brush, barely visible in the greenish glow of the neon lights that made the slums negotiable after hours. Charlotte gasped, hugging the little treasure to her chest. It was a cheap one, to be sure, but it was more than any of her mother's other playmates had ever given her. It was very nearly more than Rebeka had ever given her, save on the rare birthdays when there was a bit of extra money left from one of her escapades. 

She let the thin curtains fall to obscure the window again, and dropped back to the pillows. There, the doll cradled in her palm, she slept. 


	2. Death: Wrath

** Disclaimer: ** _ As before, Final Fantasy VII and the concepts it contains are copyright Square. Rebeka and Travyn, of course, belong to me. _

* * *

Golden strands of hair separated as the brush moved through their mass, and fall to rest on her shoulders like the trailing ends of a thin, silken veil. 

Reluctantly, Charlotte put the brush down and opened her eyes, regarding the image in the mirror quietly. The corner of her mouth lifted, and her reflection's did the same, returning an encouraging smile to the girl reaching for the pot of crimson lippaint. 

She doubted that her mother would be back before dawn, affording her another chance to experiment with the cosmetics and cheap jewelry that had been strewn across Rebeka's dressing table for as long as she could remember. After the woman's second marriage - to the dark-haired man that had given Charlotte her first real toy - had fallen apart due to her infidelities, she had taken her daughter and returned to the slums of Sector Six - albeit to a somewhat larger, cleaner flat than the two had previously inhabited. While Travyn had refused to reward the woman for her actions, he had begun filtering a small amount of gil to Charlotte. It hadn't taken Rebeka long to figure out how to divert it to her accounts, as the girl was underage - and it had taken Charlotte less to contrive a way to leech a portion back to her possession. If her mother had even noticed the "theft", she had never let on...what she retained was more than enough to keep herself comfortable. If Charlotte had decided to go to Travyn and reveal the situation, that would have been cut off completely - something Rebeka didn't care to chance. 

Charlotte wasn't hurting from the loss, either; or not as much as she _ could _ have been. The years spent in Travyn's home had accustomed her to a level of luxury she herself was unwilling to give up. The man had paid for her to attend one of the more affluent schools in Midgar, and the skills picked up through the various courses far surpassed those of most of the residents in the Sector slums, who never had an opportunity for formal education. She had both, and it paid off. Ofttimes rather highly. 

Toasters had long ago left the list of appliances that found their way into her hands for redesign. The girl knew the tunnels and train routes like the back of her hand, and it was a simple matter to divert the power flow on the older control panels to be put to use elsewhere - and if toasters ever came into it, it was merely because someone had borrowed the crossed wires for the purpose of cooking. Occasionally, she could put spare parts to use in place of those that found their way into her hands with more difficulty; but on the whole, it was easier to buy the pieces on the underground market with either Travyn's funds or those she earned for her services, or to scrounge them from the scrap piles as Rebeka had once done with furniture. 

The latter was becoming almost a daily task. As the older panels wore down - or were discovered after being re-routed - they were replaced by the more unfamiliar design of the systems used by the Shin-Ra Corporation; a level of technology that demanded compatible parts. It was rare to find Shin-Ra components in the scrap bins, and what few she did find were inevitably broken, useless until she mastered the intricate processes required to repair them. Often, as soon as she did, they were replaced by even newer designs, and the process would begin anew. 

As Mako energy replaced electricity as the power source of choice in Midgar, the slums seemed to degrade further; driven even deeper into poverty and despair as its residents were conscripted and killed at the hands of Shin-Ra lackeys. Charlotte had been able to elude them thus far - a streak of luck she attributed to her gender, if not youth. Of the inhabitants of Sector Six that she had seen leave for the top plate - either of their own will, or taken by Shin-Ra - the majority had been male. One of those had, at fourteen, been a year younger than her. She had more to worry about from her neighbours, all things considered. As long as she could tinker with the electronics in the walls, she was useful. It was after that use dwindled to nothing that she would have to concern herself with her safety. The slums were an unpleasant place for a young girl to dwell in, and less so if she was at all attractive. 

Charlotte liked to think she was attractive. 

Painted now with a vibrant shade of red, her lips curled into a sly, calculating smile as she examined her makeover in the warped mirror. In her opinion, the results weren't bad - quite the opposite, in fact, as she had known they would be. From her shoulders, she lifted the golden mane for the final touch; twisting the strands into a hasty bun and securing them at the nape of her neck. 

A dangerous place for a pretty girl, and one she intended to be out of soon enough. Pushing her chair away from the dressing table, she rose to reclaim her garments. 

And not a moment too soon, apparently. Barely had she zipped the back of her dress than the door chimed, and she darted into the front room to release the lock. Grinning, she lifted her gaze to meet that of the dark-eyed man at the door. "Hey!" 

"Evening, Charlotte," Travyn replied with a wink, and drew the girl into an easy embrace. "Mm. You're looking more like your mother all the time, I swear." 

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" she countered, laughing, and slid her arms around his waist. 

"You tell me, darling." He squeezed her gently and began extracting himself. 

She allowed him to move away, closing the door once he entered fully and turning to face him again. "If it's going to lose me my gil, a bad one." That same, sly smirk twisted her mouth. "You want something to drink? Mom's not going to be back for a while, but I'm pretty sure she's still got her stash beneath the bed." 

"I wouldn't expect any less," he replied dryly as he took a seat on the sofa. "I'm fine. Come, sit." He smiled, patting the cushion beside himself. 

Charlotte grimaced. "Neither would I," she muttered. Hands lifted to smooth nervously at the fabric of her gown as she settled beside him, and she was quiet for a long moment before she finally sought his eyes with her own again. "You gonna take me up top, Trav...?" 

He quirked a brow; that old, familiar gesture. "Why do you ask?" 

The corner of her mouth twitched. It was a few seconds before she was able to formulate an answer properly, and she shrugged lightly in the meantime. "I haven't seen you for years; not face-to-face like this. We've barely spoken." That, perhaps, had been the most unpleasant result of Rebeka's misstep for Charlotte, moreso even than their subsequent return to the slums. The man had been more of a parent to her than her own mother, and leaving his home had been painful. She'd woken up in tears for months after the divorce was finalized. "Then you call out of the blue and ask if you can drop by when Mom's not home...it's the only reason I could come up with. All my instructors always said I was one of their best students...thought maybe they had a place for me." 

Travyn's dark eyes sparkled with amusement as he listened to Charlotte's explanation; only to blink once as the final words spilled from her tongue. "Who?" 

"Shin-Ra." Her own sapphire-hued eyes, darker in the dim light of the flat, turned coy, and she looked away to regard the man from their corners rather than meet his gaze full-on. "You didn't think I was going to figure that out sooner or later, Trav? You live up top, you've got money to spare, and you _ look _ every bit the suit." She grinned wryly. 

It was Travyn's turn to mirror the chilly smirk, then, and he shook his head. "My dear, you are too bright. Far more than a slumdweller has any right to be." 

"You see? And whose fault is that?" 

"Not mine," he retorted, heading off the girl's laying of the blame before she could begin placing it. "All I did was make it so that you could develop those talents. There's no doubt in my mind that you would have done so even if you'd been left here." 

"Well, there you have it then," Charlotte informed him, shifting so that her gaze rested fully on him once more. "All that's left is for you to tell me what you want me to do now!" 

Travyn laughed, draping his arm around her shoulders. "If I wasn't looking at you, I'd think you'd never left the plate. You certainly _ sound _ as if you'd been employed there for years. Ready for orders, eh, Char?" 

"Indeed, Sir." She gave a wink of one sapphire eye. 

"Go get your things, then," he told her, briefly tightening his hand on the top of her arm. "We can be out of here and to the plate before Rebeka gets back." 

Instantly, she slid from the sofa, pausing in the hall only long enough to call back, "You know she's been stealing most of the gil you've given me, right?" Ha. Take that, bitch. 

"I know," he responded calmly. "That stopped as of six o'clock this evening." 

The breath caught in Charlotte's throat as the weight of that announcement sank in, and she hurried into her room. Rebeka was going to be decidedly unhappy the first time she tried to withdraw her funds to feed her vices, and if she was in the flat when the woman got back, she'd be the one it got taken out on. Especially if Rebeka suspected it was she who had told Travyn...and who else would she suspect? For all she knew, her mother was on her way back already. 

It was, perhaps, the first time in her life she was grateful for _ not _ having much. It meant that there was less she'd have to pack, and the less time she spent doing that, the less chance there would be of running into Rebeka. Indeed, upon taking stock of her belongings, she realized that there was only one item she actually _ had _ to pack. Everything else could be replaced when they got to the plate. Her fingers closed around the doll, lifting it from her pillow, and she dashed back down the hall. 

An instant before she reached the front room, she skidded to a stop; the toy tumbling from her hands as they rose involuntarily to cover her ears. Gunfire. She'd heard it before, but never quite so _ close... _ Trembling, the girl knelt to retrieve the fallen doll and crawled to the corner. 

It had taken a moment for the ringing left in the wake of the shot to fade away, and with the double shock of the realization that it had been fired in the flat, she hadn't been able to pick up on the voices from the frontroom until she was already in the doorway, the doll clutched to her chest as if she were no more than a frightened toddler. 

"It's the bastards like you on the plate that are keeping us from having any chance at a real life!" 

Charlotte recognized the man speaking. She'd done a wiring job for him once, before his son had run off to join SOLDIER. Months had passed before there had been any word of the boy, and that had come in the form of a twisted, broken body left in one of the trash heaps. She wondered, idly, how long he had crouched in the shadows at the train stops, waiting for a chance like this. He would have had to, to have followed Travyn to the flat. Unless... 

_ Unless there was someone else running wires in the 6? Someone as good, or better, than her? _

But what reason would there have been to bug Rebeka's flat? As far as she was aware, all anyone know was that she had married and left the Sector for a few years. Midgar was a big place...she could have gone anywhere in the city. Why would they have suspected the plate, or that she would still have been in contact with its inhabitants, let alone her daughter? 

"You're mistaken," Travyn muttered. The man leaned heavily on the arm of the sofa, coughing, and turned away to spit out a mouthful of blood. "I merely came to visit my stepdaughter, and see how she was getting on. I haven't seen the sky in years." 

Neither had Charlotte, though it was only then that she realized how much she missed it. 

"Nice try," his assailant snapped, bringing the gun up to level on the man once more. "We saw you come down from the 8-stop. Don't think we haven't been waiting for someone like you to come for the rest of ours. Be damned if you're gonna take anyone else like you did Nicólai." 

She could see his finger move on the trigger; the tendons contracting in his wrist. Even had she been able to raise her voice in protest, it would have been lost in the burst of gunfire that followed. 

"Trav..." Scream or whisper; it mattered not by that point.. The man stumbled back with the impact of the rounds and collapsed against the wall, leaving a wide smear of sanguine to mark his slide down. 

She did scream then, sapphire eyes widening as she glanced down to catch sight of the blood splattered on the floor on walls...that bright, vibrant red like that paint on her lips. Her hands closed more tightly around the doll's waist, and she retreated a few steps into the hall. 

The gunman's gaze lifted from Travyn's body as the girl sought escape, and he followed her, forcing her further into the flat until her back was pressed against the wall at the end of the passageway. "He do anything to you, kid?" 

His question fell on deaf ears, however. Charlotte merely stared at him in horror, lower lip quivering. "You...you killed him!" 

"He would have done the same to me." He shrugged. "Ain't like you never seen someone die before." 

"No...no, he wouldn't! I know him!" she protested, shaking her head with enough vigor that the pins came loose from a section of her coiffure. 

"And he'd've made you Shin-Ra's little bitch, too," he added, leaning in to leer at the girl more closely. "Would you _ like _ that? Good a wirer as you? Been wasted on the plate." 

"Get _ away _ from me!" Painted lips drew back as she screeched. Not willing to wait to see if he complied on his own, she shoved both fists into his gut with as much strength as she could summon. The look as his face as he fought to regain his balance gave a certain sick pleasure to Charlotte. He hadn't been expecting her to strike him, she was sure. 

In the moment it took him to steady himself, she ducked into Rebeka's room and kicked the door shut behind her. The knob always stuck, and it would take him a moment to either unjam it or knock the portal down if he wanted to pursue her yet - more time than she needed to wriggle her hand beneath the mattress and grasp the gun the woman kept there. 

Idiot. Idiot. _ She _ might have clued him in, Char; as soon as she was denied access to the gil, she might have realized what had happened. Her fingers closed around the cold muzzle of the weapon, and she tugged it free, nearly dropping it in her haste to position it correctly in her hand. 

It was waiting to greet the gunman when he crashed through the door, face contorted with anger. "You _ are _ a little bitch, aren't you? Becky was right. An ungrateful little plate bitch!" 

Confirmation. She didn't bother replying to the man. She wasn't sure she would have been able to if she had _ wanted. _ Let the gun do the talking, babe... Her lips curled as she increased the pressure on the trigger, taking on an expression far colder than the one she'd demonstrated earlier in the evening - as far away as that seemed, now. 

The first shot was off; missing its target entirely and sinking into the sheetmetal partition between the bedroom and the hall. Charlotte flinched as the recoil of the weapon jarred her arm to the shoulder. In the second it took her to shake it, his gun was up and aimed. 

It was then that she realized she didn't care. One way or another, she would get out of the slums - if not by going to the plate, dying wasn't that bad of a second choice. 

He pulled the trigger - 

- and nothing happened. 

Charlotte burst into laughter as she realized in the same instant as he that he had wasted all his rounds on Travyn; a high-pitched, hysterical sort of cackle that was far less collected than she normally preferred to present herself as. He wouldn't have expected her to fight back, no. To feign innocence to save her own life, perhaps; as frightened as she was of Rebeka. 

_ Don't ever underestimate me. I'm the best wirer in Sector 6, and I'm far more of a bitch because of what I've been through here than Shin-Ra could ever make me into. _

Her fist closed. 

His eyes widened. 

And his head exploded in a sickeningly satisfying shower of bone chips and brain matter, splattering the girl with the same droplets of scarlet fluid that decorated the rest of the flat. 

Ignoring the gore around her, Charlotte turned to snatch a pillow from Rebeka's bed and strip it of its case. She discarded the latter, turning again to the woman's dressing table and sweeping its contents into the makeshift pack. Let her rot without her toys, without her pretty boy paramours...she wouldn't be needing them for long anyway. 

What did you ever do for me, Mother? You taught me how to bat my eyes and act vacuous. What will I teach you in return? 

Don't piss off a wirer. Especially if she knows every nook and cranny in your flat. 

Pity that knowledge won't get you anywhere in life. 

As she left, she turned out the lights. 


	3. Resurrection: Lust

** Disclaimer: ** As per usual, Final Fantasy VII and Scarlet belong to Square. Rebeka, Travyn, and the latest of the dark-eyed men remain my own creations. 

** Author's Note: ** Originally, this chapter contained what I thought was a rather tastefully-written lemon scene. Due to FF.net's new guidelines, it can no longer be posted. I have subsequently edited the chapter to render it more 'appropriate'; however, I am not entirely pleased with the results - rather than remove the scene entirely, as it contains nuances that are necessary for full understanding of later incidents, only the more explicit statements have been deleted. I have attempted to do so as smoothly as possible, but some loss of quality was unavoidable. The original version is available through my personal library, for those who wish to view it in whole. 

* * *

In truth, there was little difference between the Sectors, aside from how far they were removed from the plate. Over a period of several years, the girl moved between them, and life continued on much as it had before her forced exile from Six. There had been no witnesses to the nature of her crime, after all; and if anyone had realized, she would have felt no qualms as to ensuring that the information wasn't shared. 

She hated them. More than she hated the slums, more than the dirt and filth and poverty, more than not being able to see the sky...she hated the gutterrats that dwelled there and tried to pass themselves off as human. Their hypocritical bemoanings did little to endear them to the woman, either. Constantly, they blamed Shin-Ra for the demise of their way of life, forgetting that it had been little better before the rise of the company to power - what a lovely pun, that - yet she was sure that if she pointed out that they had stolen her life on _ suspicion _ of being privy to Shin-Ra's activities, they would be as quick to justify their actions. 

And so, she combined her own skills those learned from years of watching her mother's. The slumdwellers felt no compulsions about hypocrisy and lies, and neither did the girl who pretended to be one. It was as easy to paint her lips and force a false smile now as it had ever been; easier when she knew the rewards that she would reap. Just like Mom. 

In her case, however, the harvests were _ always _ more material than physical. For a wiring job here and a few gil spent wisely there, she had the reports filtered to her flat in Sector Four from the levels above. Far enough from the plate not to call notice to herself, and not near enough to the bottom to miss the most choice bits gleaned from the network of spies that was present throughout Midgar, she spent her downtime studying the mysterious power source known as Mako, the Planet's own energy. 

How wonderful. How utterly, utterly wonderful. Harnessing the power of the Planet itself to give power to its residents. And its uses only increased when it was compacted, it seemed; into the mock-magic of materia. A win-win situation, with something for everyone. 

Save for the residents of the slums, of course. 

She would have killed to get her hands on a piece of materia, let alone have the full power of Mako at her disposal. The gun taken from her mother's bed lay on a table next to her own, various sections removed and replaced with new wirings. Beside it, the doll, draped in copper coils and holding her screwdriver. Her two most treasured possessions. Were she ever to think about it, it would have occurred to her that the only original part left in the weapon was its shell. The muzzle had been coated inside and out with a thicker, more heat-resistant metal; one more suited for the firing of the ammunition now intended for it. The trigger had been replaced with a sensor chip, ensuring that if it fell into the wrong hands, it wouldn't be used against its creator. All it needed now was the Mako. 

Surrounded by weapons in various states of disrepair and readiness, the woman felt more at home than she ever had with Rebeka; nearly more so than she had with Travyn. Ah, but she'd make him proud of her yet. If she couldn't take down the slums from above, she'd do it from within. As far as anyone else knew, she was designing the artillery for use by the underground. It was weak, but it was there, and it was growing in number. 

And it would fall, at her hands. 

She needed more money, though; more methods of obtaining the secrets she sought. 

There was no shame in lowering oneself in order to rise. If she had to make someone else rise to ensure her own...so be it. 

Standing in the dim, sickly light near the train stop, Scarlet rested a hand on a cocked hip, the length of her leg bared through the slit in her dress. The sanguine-hued sheath of silk was cut low in front and back, and high on the sides - the garment of a whore, as easily as the painted lips that smiled to a disembarking passenger were. And just as easily as she had assumed the garish garb, so had it been for those who recognized it to begin identifying her by its colour rather than the name of the one who wore it - no doubt, the similarity in the sound of the two had been another contributing factor there, particularly to those clients who were apt to appear when intoxicated. Certainly, it had made it simpler for her to grow accustomed to being called such. Charlotte had died long before, in a flat in Sector Six. There was only Scarlet, now. 

She liked it that way. 

He disregarded the woman, hurrying away to whatever hovel he claimed as his home. No matter. The evening was young, yet, and business never picked up until after the rush, when there was less chance of being spotted. 

Which was why it surprised her when the third man off dipped his head to her. Immediately, she flashed him a coy wink, and he crossed the filthy floortiles to approach her. 

"You working, doll?" 

"I am," she agreed readily, lips curving into a charming smile. 

He nodded, glancing off briefly before reaching out and snagging her wrist in his hand. "Let's go, then." 

"Hey!" She began to protest, only to swallow her words once more as her composure reasserted itself. Dark eyes, dark hair, dark suit...he reminded her of Travyn. And Travyn reminded her of money. Acquiescing with a dip of her own golden-tressed head, Scarlet followed him toward the dark recesses of the corridors. 

By then, it was habitual for the woman to glance into each crevice they passed along the way. There was no way of knowing who else might be using the sporadic interruptions in the city's foundations to conduct their business in, and she would prefer to be neither seen nor heard. 

Her sense of shame had long ago been eroded. In its place was the wariness that had - thus far, at least - kept her from being discovered by the wrong people. Transactions of the flesh weren't the only type of commerce she carried on within the walls, and until she had the means by which to arrange her passage to the plate, the fewer that knew of her actions, the better. 

It appeared, however, that her client had at least some knowledge of the Sector's layout himself. The hand on her wrist tightened, and he guided her toward a sizable hollow near the end of the alley. She'd used it for such exchanges previously, but it surprised her that he would have chosen it even before she could make the suggestion. 

No doubt, he was the one in charge of the situation. At no point had he given Scarlet any leeway to make the decisions herself. After taking stock of the surroundings in kind, he spun her around and thrust her into the darkness. 

The impact of her back striking the partition stunned her momentarily, and he took advantage of her disorientation, pinning her body between his own and the wall. Briefly, she lifted her eyes to his. In the dim light, she could almost _ feel _ that piercing gaze staring back at her rather than see it, and a tremor ran through her. It was unsettling. She looked away again quickly; the tip of her tongue leaving a thin, glistening trail in its wake as it passed nervously across her lower lip. 

He took the gesture as an invitation and leaned down. The cheap paint applied to her lips smeared carelessly as they met his, and she began to protest once more - only to have her words cut off before they could be formed. 

As soon as her lips parted, his tongue forced its way between them to explore the contours of her mouth. Scarlet mewled loudly, struggling against the grip of his fingers around her wrist, and braced her other hand against his chest as if to shove him away. 

He paused on his own, however; gazing down at her with obvious amusement. 

"You'll get paid, doll," he assured her, anticipating her demands. His lips sealed once more to hers before she could reply, and she resigned herself to his probings there - as obvious as it was that they wouldn't be constrained there for long. His free hand had already risen, cupping her breast. 

Scarlet knew the role; knew the lines and the poses nearly as well as she knew the inner workings of the gun that waited, half-assembled, on the table in her flat. She could have played the part as well as any actress, had she needed to; though she'd taught herself to enjoy it. It was all for a good cause, and it wasn't all bad. She moaned against his lips, and his fingers curled to stroke her appreciatively through the thin fabric. 

"Pretty whore," he whispered as he broke the kiss. Scarlet sought his eyes once more with her own; half-lidded orbs glittering wetly beneath her lashes. There was nothing she could have said to deny that even had she wished to - they both knew it was true. It didn't stop the hateful blush from darkening her flesh. 

He merely laughed at that. "Pretty," he repeated, "shy for a whore." On her breast, the pressure of his hand increased, and she squirmed. 

"You're hurting me," she murmured. It wasn't anything she wasn't used to. Some of them liked it rough, and some of them liked to see her cry. Whatever it took to coax them into being free with their gil... 

"No, no," he said, laughing. "If I was hurting you, you'd know it." His lips moved up her jawline slowly. She could feel the rush of his breath across her ear as he exhaled. "If I was hurting you..." 

Abruptly, his fingers sank into the mound of her breast. Their tips were poised so that his nails would bite into her flesh, and as they raked toward the peak, they tore away the fabric covering it. Without thinking, she cried out and flinched away from him. 

"...you'd scream," he finished, smiling coolly at her. 

Scarlet whimpered, swallowing the sound as best she could. If she'd been heard, she could count the evening's wages goodbye, if she was lucky. A few years worth, if she wasn't. 

For the third time, the man laughed. He could have bought her simply to bask in her fear, for all she knew. It was the impression she was beginning to get from the way he watched her tremble beneath his touch. 

He took his hand away then, however. The one restraining her wrist fell away after another moment, stroking through the golden wisps that framed her face. "Stay," he warned her. 

"What happens if I don't?" she countered, quirking a brow. Her more acidic nature picked the worst times to reassert itself. 

"Then you don't get paid," he replied, smiling pleasantly. His hands were already on his belt; at her words, one of them moved to shift his coat aside and show her the handle of the revolver slung at his hip, gleaming dully in the ambient light. "And I hunt you down like the beast I expect you to be." 

Scarlet blinked, lips pursing lightly as she examined the weapon. "Good deal," she agreed. This time, she was the one at the disadvantage - but if nothing else, he'd jarred her into realizing her mistake. One she didn't intend to make again. Mentally, she made a note to devise some way to conceal one of her own guns the next time she worked nights. 

"I thought you'd feel that way, my dear." Chuckling, he bent to seal his mouth back to hers. This time, her lips parted easily at the first brush of his tongue. You don't argue with the man with the gun _ and _ the gil. Another time, she might have tried to steal one or both - but she wasn't sure she wanted to risk it, not having had a chance to stake him out and determine what _ other _ toys he might be walking around with. 

His hands moved to her waist, one curling there to hold her in place. The other slipped into the slit in the left side of her dress, stroking the flesh of her thigh. Scarlet sighed softly and closed her eyes, using the wall as a support as she nudged her hips toward his. _ If you want me, take me already... _

He seemed determined to drag it out. Whether it pleased him to do so, or he did it sheerly to prolong her torture, she wouldn't have tried to guess at. Maybe both, maybe neither. 

"I take it back," he murmured against her lips. "You're not shy. You just like playing hard to get." 

"Seen one gun, seen 'em all," she replied. Left to their own devices, her arms went around him, and she took a handful of his hair. "Yours ain't nothing special, mine's bigger, and I'll pull either." 

"You'll have to prove that some time, Scarlet." He chuckled wryly. Whatever response she would have made to his words was thusly lost in favour of the quiet moan his caress evoked, and he smiled, pleased. "Pretty whore." 

She merely nodded. 

He drew his hand away after but a moment, and she whimpered pathetically, tugging on the captured strands of hair. "Pretty beast." 

So...that had, perhaps, been an assessment of her sexual behaviour as well? If that was what he wanted, so be it. Scarlet broke the kiss herself, scraping the tip of a canine over his lip. Tightening her arms, she pulled her body along his with a deliberate, slow motion. Toward the end of it, she had to rise onto her toes in order to brush her lips over his ear as he had done to her. "You gonna shoot me or what?" 

He turned his head slightly, angling it toward her. "If that's what you want..." Without warning, both hands slid behind her back, and he lifted her from the ground to toss her against the wall as easily if she had been her doll. "...never let it be said I didn't try to make a lady happy." 

_ If I was hurting you, you'd scream. _

"Beg me, Scarlet," he whispered. 

"I don't beg," she informed him, breath catching for an instant in her throat. 

"You do," he replied, lips trailing across her cheek as they made their way back to her ear, "because if you please me, I'll give you anything you want. And if you don't..." 

The threat was left to hang, unfinished, in the air for an extended moment. He shoved the woman down forcibly after it ended, using the arm on her back to gain leverage. "...I'll hunt you down like a beast and shoot you." 

Scarlet writhed above him. "Good...deal," she managed, opening one sapphire eye briefly to regard him anew. 

He declined to answer her, that time; returning to the rough ministrations of affection he'd been giving her prior to the interruption - if it could be called affection. In the darkness of Midgar's midnight, no one would care if the woman purchased her life with her body, or how the merchandise was handled. 

Only after the man himself was spent did he allow her to rest; setting her on the floor. Scarlet shuddered, at the moment wanting nothing more than to _ bathe, _ and get the mess off her skin. There were matters yet to be dealt with before she could attend to her cleansing, however; and she lifted her head to stare brazenly into the man's eyes. 

He regarded her quietly, curiously; finally asking, "Did you want something?" 

"You have yet to pay me," she reminded him, a matted lock of golden hair falling in front of one eye. 

"So I do." She could hear, again, the amusement in his voice as he considered the request. "What's the going rate for a whore like you, anyway?" 

"You tell me," Scarlet offered without hesitation, winking. "But remember, just like you can look at me and determine how much _ I'm _ worth, I can look at you and tell how much _ you're _ worth." 

"I'm sure you can," he agreed, turning away from her to fasten his pants. "The real question is what you'll do if you're not happy with the price I place on you." 

"I'll hunt you down and shoot you like the beast I am," she snapped instantly. 

He laughed and stepped out of the recess. "Show me your gun, Scarlet," was all he said as he began to walk away. 

Scarlet narrowed her eyes, leaping after him. "I never agreed to a game of 'You show me yours, I'll show you mine.'" 

He stopped, not bothering to look at back at her. "And I'm not playing one. Go get the gun on the table beside your bed, and bring it to back to me." 

"What? What the _ fuck _ are you talking about?" Angrily, she tried to draw the pieces of her dress together. She quickly abandoned it as a lost cause, however, and moved in front of him. She'd play dumb as long as she was able, but it was clear that the night was going the way of her garment. 

His eyes met hers again at last as she forced his line of sight to fall on her, as piercing as they had first revealed themselves to be in the darkness of the wall space. "You know as much about it as I do, unless you're not Charlotte Kirana." With the admonishment, his hand moved back to the inner pocket of his coat, and she swallowed dryly. He knew her name - not the assumed title, the use of which she had managed to overlook at first. For all she'd known, someone had told him where to find her. Now, she knew someone must have, but not for the reasons she would have originally thought. And he knew about her project; his own gun raised and aimed at the woman without. "And I feel sorry for you if you're not. You're pretty good at pulling my triggers." 

If he didn't shoot her, Scarlet was going to do it herself as punishment for coming up with that line. 

"I am," she admitted, not taking her gaze from his own. She'd stared death in the face before. What was one more time? 

"Good." He nodded, motioning down the corridor with the barrel of the weapon. "In case you've forgotten in the midst of your pleasure - which I certainly couldn't blame you for -" Arrogant bastard! The corner of her lip twitched. "- there's a gun in your bedroom. It's in several pieces, if I'm correct." 

_ And I suppose you're never wrong? _

"Bring it, and all the pieces. And anything else you might have a use for," he added. 

"Now wait one goddamn minute!" she snarled, dropping a hand to her hip. "When did you start giving me orders?" 

"You're still on my time, pretty whore," he reminded her with a smirk. "And you have fifteen minutes of it to go fetch your toy and hand it over to me. I wouldn't get any ideas about running off, either." 

"Because you'll hunt me down and shoot me if I do, I suppose." 

"You _ do _ learn quick," he marvelled mockingly. "And if you don't, you'll still get what you want. Good deal?" He grinned. 

Scarlet just shook her head, turning to walk away. 

"Fifteen minutes, Scarlet." His voice followed her, fading to a haunted echo in the corridor. 

* * *

_ Original text: http://shin-rainc.org/longings/fanfics/ff7/scars3.htm (that page belongs in a frameset, so the links there might behave funny if you use them ^^; ). _


	4. Ascension: Avarice

** Standard Disclaimer: ** _ We all know the drill by now, right? Final Fantasy VII is Square's, Scarlet's client is mine. Good deal, huh? _

* * *

Fifteen minutes. More than enough time for her purposes. She wouldn't have dreamt of trying to elude the man. For whatever reason, he knew her name, he knew about the gun, and more than likely, he not only knew where she lived, but where she would have gone to hide. He knew she wouldn't run. Not away from him, anyway. She had to know why. 

Breathless, she skidded through the door and headed for the bedroom. With an almost careless-seeming pass of her hand, Scarlet swept the contents of the tabletop into a fold of her bedsheet. If anything came loose, she could put it back together with relative ease, which ought to keep her alive for a while longer. In a matter of seconds, she'd secured the corners of the sheet in a tight knot and scooped into into her arms. 

Seven minutes, by her estimate, to reach the flat and retrieve the gun; leaving her eight to complete her exodus. Her shoes, stiletto-heeled pumps that were just begging to twist an ankle, had been abandoned scant steps after taking flight, which would shave a few seconds off the return trip. She had a feeling she wouldn't be coming back to the makeshift workshop after tonight, and she'd be damned if anyone else was going to reap the benefits of her hard work. Savagely, she yanked a piece of the paneling from the wall. It clattered to the ground, and she reached inside to grasp a handful of the wires and do the same. 

It was times like this she was particularly proud of being able to call herself the best wirer in 4. She'd planned for just such an event shortly after taking up residence in the flat. Slender fingers picked their way through the mass to the center coil, and she eased it through the maze of metal until she could actually _ see _ it. Her eyes narrowed, and she pressed the tip of a nail through the plastic coating. 

It would, if all went well, finish eating the hole itself, now that the barrier had been weakened. Chemical burns were _ not _ high on her list of experiences for the evening; or wouldn't have been had she intended to stick around and check its progress. The tangle of wires swung gently above the bed when she released it, content enough to be free of their previous home in the wall. 

Four minutes. Scarlet shifted the bundled bedsheet into the crook of her arm and spun for the door, smacking the light switch to the ON position with the palm of her free hand on the way out. 

He was waiting at the end of the corridor, as she'd expected. As she slowed, she reached up to flip the unruly lock of her hair back into place. 

"I'm ready," she said. "Let's go." 

"Go where?" he inquired amiably, quirking a brow. 

"Wherever the hell you're taking me!" she screeched. Her irritation was beginning to break through her falsely calm demeanor. 

Instantly, his own attitude shifted to one of suspicion. "Just what did you do?" 

"If you know me, you know what I did," she replied with a wink. 

He blinked, then shook his head, smirking. "Should I feel sorry for whoever has to pick up the pieces?" 

"Ashes," Scarlet corrected. "It'll burn itself out. I was trying not to call attention to myself." 

"It's a bit late for that," he told her as he turned, apparently headed for the same train stop he'd disembarked from. 

The blonde scowled, re-arranging the bedsheet so that it covered the hole in her dress. "I meant by anyone else. And just who the hell are you, anyway?" 

"I'm the employer of a rather shrewish whore, apparently," he remarked dryly. 

"And you still haven't paid me!" 

He simply laughed, checking his watch. "I will. You're worth a slight bit more than I can conveniently carry." 

Her eyes brightened, and she turned a bright grin up to him. "Told you." 

"No, you didn't." Beneath her feet, she could feel the tiles vibrate, but her attention remained focused on the man beside her. "If I'd come looking for an actual whore, do you really think I'd've come without gil? Well, to pay her off, anyway." 

"...is this where I'm insulted that I'm not a real whore, or grateful that you think I'm something else?" Scarlet gave a light snort, and raked her hair from her face again. 

"Whichever." He fell silent after that, not speaking again until after he'd led her into the last car and the train had resumed motion. 

Three A.M. With the exception of the silent, timid-looking woman carrying a bag of groceries across the aisle, the car was deserted. Scarlet's lips thinned somewhat as the seat lurched beneath her, and she realized abruptly just how bad she must truly look. Now that she could loosen her grasp on the folded bedsheet, she scrubbed the back of her hand across her mouth to remove the remainder of the lip paint. 

"You're not doing anything but making a bigger mess," her companion snapped. The woman blinked at the sudden irritation in his voice and glanced at him from the corner of her eye. 

"I'd like to see you do better." 

"Don't tempt me." 

She smirked, stroking the sheet nervously. Beneath her fingers, the fabric was growing warm from friction. "Where _ are _ you taking me, anyway?" she asked. 

"Where you wanted to go," he answered, once more amused. Scarlet sighed, deciding that she would get no more out of him until he was ready to tell her, and leaned back against the ripped cushion backing her seat. 

She knew, even before the train slowed. By the time it screeched to an unwilling halt at the end of the line, she was sure. Nowhere else would have taken that long to get to. She'd lost count of the levels after the other passenger had gotten off, but it didn't matter. The instant the doors opened, she was up, sprinting into the section of the city beyond the exit. The Sector without a number; the top level... The plate. 

Throwing decorum to the wind, Scarlet giggled; the high-pitched laughter she'd never quite been able to rid herself of after her first kill - part hysterics, and part what was probably actual madness. In her excitement, she nearly dropped the bundle, and it took her a few seconds to resituate herself; by which time the man had joined her. 

"I take it you approve." It was a statement rather than a question, and she grinned as she spun to face him. 

"Hell yes I approve!" She dropped her empty hand back to her hip and struck a cocky pose before him. 

The edges of his lips curled upward, fighting back a smile. "I'm sure you would have approved four years ago, too," he added. 

"I would have approved pretty much any time," she informed him, turning an entire circle in her effort to take in as much of the sight as possible. 

He walked toward one of the streets leading away from the stop, not waiting to see if she followed. By now, she was growing accustomed to his nature, and took a step after him without waiting to be prompted. It worked out rather well. "If you hadn't run off where no one could find you, you would have _ been _ able to approve four years ago." There was the annoyance creeping into his tone again. 

"...you expected me to stick around and wait for the twits who killed my meal ticket to kill me?" She gave that same disdainful snort, shaking her head. "You must have never been off the plate before in your life." 

"You make it hard for anyone to _ be _ your meal ticket, Scarlet," was his only response. Dimly, in the distance, she could see the eerie glow of the upper-level Reactor lights; prompting her to wonder briefly if the security was any lighter at the top. She doubted it. 

"I do what I have to," she said quietly, and shrugged. 

He cast one of those piercing gazes at her over his shoulder. "You do, and it worked out to your advantage. If nothing else, your projects have earned you the interest of people who might have looked you over or not, previously." 

"Oh?" she asked. A golden brow quirked with renewed interest. "Who?" 

"Me." He smirked and resumed walking. 

The streets of Midgar's surface were no less crowded that those of the Sectors below, though they were somewhat cleaner, if only because of the exposure to fresh air. In the years she'd been away from it, though, it seemed to have closed in on itself, shoving new structures into places old structures had not intended to share. Here-and-there, neon signs flickered and buzzed, hawking the wares of the shops they graced; and at periodic intervals, labels proclaimed proudly that the business was powered by the Shin-Ra Electric Company. Powered by Mako. 

The walk was becoming a lengthy one. Scarlet suspected that her benefactor hadn't wanted to risk leaving whatever method of transportation he used on the top near the Sector entrances, and she couldn't blame him. At one point, had she been able to sneak into 8, she more than likely wouldn't have been above stealing such items herself. Now, however, she _ was _ above that. Above the dirt, and the darkness, and the disease. Above the dimly lit corners where a whore had once offered herself to whoever had a gil or two to spare on cheap entertainment. The whore had ridden her way up at gunpoint. 

At last, they came to one of the multi-storied buildings closer to the center of the city. Her companion held up a hand to indicate that she should stop, and pulled a keycard from his coat pocket with the other. Blue eyes watched impassively as the LED sensors on the swipe switched from red to green; only to lift to his curiously as he handed the card to her once the audible hiss affirmed that the door had unlocked. 

"It's yours," he said. 

She blinked, reaching to take the keycard with a trembling hand. By the time the full meaning of the action had sunk in, he had brushed past her to press the call button for the lift just past the entrance, and she had to run the last few steps to keep the doors from closing before she arrived. 

"Ten-K", he added cryptically as the elevator began to rise, and she surmised that it was the number of the apartment that the card would open. "Furnished and fabricated with a rather disgusting amount of resources. There are clothes, of course; if you don't like them, or they aren't fitted properly, you can buy new ones at your own leisure." 

Scarlet was quiet for a moment, studying the card in her hand. Painted, bruised lips curved into a sly smile as his words reached her ears. "So I'm to be a higher class of whore, now?" 

"If you like." He shrugged disinterestedly. "What you do in your spare time is your business. The rest of it is ours." 

"Whose?" she asked, furrowing her brow. The ding of the lift as it reached the selected floor went unnoticed in her desire for answers, and it was only when he scowled that she stepped - backwards - from it. 

"Mine, for one." Dark eyes fixed on hers, and he extended a hand. "The gun, Scarlet. 

"Wha...wait! No!" she cried, curling her arms protectively around the bundle. "I thought -" 

"That we had a deal?" he replied with a smirk of his own. "We did, and we do. I told you back in Sector 4 to hand it over to me. Allowing you to retain it this long was a simple oversight on my part. Your reaction to the surface amused me," he said, the grin returning to brighten his features for a second. 

"I worked for _ years _ on this!" Her eyes narrowed, and she backed another step into the hall. 

"And your devotion to the cause hasn't gone unappreciated, I assure you." All traces of his earlier pleasure had fled from his face, and he curled his fingers to beckon Scarlet back to him. "I merely wish to see whether or not your efforts will be rewarded with success. If they are, you'll have as many years as you care to take to complete the design, and the means to create as many more as pleases you. Though...if you'd prefer to return to the slums, I can see that you do." 

Her lips thinned, twisting bitterly, and she shoved the bundle into his waiting arms. 

"There's my pretty whore," he crooned placatingly. Scarlet merely stared at him with an expression of hate rivalling any she had ever given to a slumdweller. If she was angry, she wouldn't cry; and there was _ no _ way she was going to let the man see her cry. He'd bought the whore, used her, and paid her way; and his time for selecting the options of his pleasure was about to run out. Finally, she shook her head and turned away. 

"Scarlet," he called. 

For a moment, she stood where she was, then sighed and looked back to the lift. "Yeah?" 

The knot was already undone, and he cradled the sack-like portion of the sheet between his arm and his chest. His other hand lifted, tossing something toward her, and her own arms rose automatically to catch the object, and ward it off if necessary. 

The doll dropped to her feet, smiling up at her vapidly, and the woman ducked to scoop it up as quickly as she could manage. When she straightened, the doors to the lift had all but closed; allowing just enough room for his parting words to reach her before he vanished from view. 

"If all goes well, your classes start at the first of the week, Miss Kirana." 


	5. Decadence: Greed

** Disclaimer? Indeed! ** _ Would it surprise anyone if I said that Final Fantasy VII was created by Square, and Travyn was created by me? I thought not. _

* * *

_ Classes? _ Scarlet blinked blankly, uncomprehending. When the edge of the keycard began biting into her palm, she shook herself from her reverie and searched out the lock it matched. Anything was better than standing in the hall looking like...well...looking like she'd just crawled out of the slums. 

10-H, 10-I, 10-K. The number was nailed to the door as a golden plaque, the sort she remembered from Travyn's building. From the lush shag carpeting the halls, however, she suspected that these apartments might be more lavish than the one that had housed her prior to her exile from the plate. Cautiously, she crossed to the correct side of the corridor. 

Her hand paused above the keyswipe, trembling. She was dirty, half-naked, and standing in the hall of an affluent apartment complex on the surface of Midgar without her weapons. If for some reason the lock didn't accept her keycard, she was going to be screwed; and not in an enjoyable way such as the night had started with. There was little to be done about it now; but she couldn't help feeling like the events were those of some strange - possibly drug-induced - dream. 

Scarlet lowered the card, only to close her eyes at the last second as it was swiped. There was a particularly satisfying hiss as the lock released, and she spent a few seconds staring at the door unbelievingly before finally reaching for the knob. It turned with little effort on her part, and she swung into the room. 

If there was a Heaven...Scarlet believed she was there. The apartment was so far removed from the flats of Sector 4 that it stunned her. Silently, she crept inside; crimson carpeting crushing beneath her toes as she moved away from the door. It was thick enough for them to leave _ imprints. _ Hell, even Trav's rugs hadn't been able to keep a footprint. 

It did, perhaps, look like the dwelling of a high-class whore; with the velvet and satin furnishings that dotted the interior; or the setting of some skin flick that would have been shown in the wee hours of night in the scratchy TV reception that made it into the Sectors. But it was a damn comfortable brothel, and that was what she cared about. Setting the doll on the dressing table, Scarlet approached the bed. 

There was an envelope on the down-filled duvet, and though it bore the names of neither sender nor recipient, she knew without a doubt it was intended for her - Who else would it have been, if this was her apartment? She certainly wouldn't have left personal things lying about where anyone that wandered by could take them. - just as she was certain who had left it. Gently, she curled onto the side of the plush mattress and slit the thin paper open. 

The letter inside was a simple sheet of ivory stationery, penned in dark blue ink and folded in a precise manner. When she opened it, another small card fell into her lap, prompting her to take a look at it first. 

_ Scarlet Kirana   
MiTech Auth   
563-A7 _

Aha. She understood what the man had meant before he left, then. It was one of the laminated ID cards such as those issued by universities and businesses to their students and employees - in this case, Midgar Technical. Whoever had gone to the trouble of overseeing matters had been thorough, indeed...chillingly so. 

Dark eyes, dark hair...a _ relative _ of Trav, perhaps? Scarlet was beginning to lose hope of ever knowing for certain who the man was, or how he knew of her...and she was wondering if she would care, if things remained as good as they seemed to be at that moment. Curiosity would fade, in time, as long as she had something to otherwise occupy her thoughts. Already, she suspected that what was written on the enclosed note would be of little help, as far as the matter of her benefactor's identity was concerned. 

She was correct; the paper was simply a handwritten schedule of courses. Everything had been planned without her knowledge or opinion, and yet, it was exactly the sort of situation she would have arranged for herself, had she been able to do so. 

Quietly, she returned the paper and the card that went with it to the envelope, and laid it on the desk beside the doll. For a while, she did little more than sit on the bed and stare at her hands, suddenly exhausted. The weight of the night had abruptly come crashing down on her, and all she wanted to do was sleep...and she couldn't, for fear that she would wake and find that it _ had _ been a dream. 

As the idea seized her mind, she rose from the bed and began pacing the room, tearing the drawers from their slots and flinging open the doors to the closets and cabinets. There, as promised, were the clothes; half of them in her favoured shade of sanguine red and more than a few cut to show off every asset of her femininity. The same ivory stationery that the schedule had been penned upon. In one incident, a box of wire and bits of metal. Things, more things than she'd ever seen in one place in her life. Scarlet-things. 

She stood in the center of the room, in the midst of the mess, panting. For the first time since she'd left her flat at the start of the evening, Scarlet caught sight of herself in the mirror; and dissolved once more into that helpless, hysterical laughter. Unthinking, she brought a hand to her face and tore at her cheeks, desperate to remove the streaks of cosmetics that feathered from her mouth; already as red as the blood that welled from the scratches left in the wake of her nails. 

A bath. She remembered wanting one, then; and stumbled toward the shower. Before the water even had a chance to run hot, she stripped the remains of her dress away and stepped shivering into the stream; only to flinch and shriek as it abruptly became far too hot for comfort. She left it there, however; until the water ran clear once more. 

In the warmth of the towel that awaited her when she exited the shower, she managed to forget what had distressed her so terribly in the first place, if only briefly. The instant her toes sank again into the deep carpeting of the main room, her lips twisted, and she sighed. What a mess. She thought she'd left mess behind when she stepped off the train. Well, after tonight, she'd make a point of remembering not to allow it to happen again. She wasn't a slumdweller anymore, and she never had been - it had just been a passage between the important points in her life. 

With the litany of left-behind firmly embedded in her mind, she sank to her knees and tugged one of the drawers over. It would be a long process to be sure, as tired as she was, but she'd have the place back in order by the time the sun rose. Then, and only then could she sleep. 

Halfway through the chore, she paused to inspect the contents of the bar beneath the kitchen counter, and the refrigerator beside it. She could spare a moment to eat, certainly. The last time she had, now that she thought of it, had been well before she'd ventured out to find her mark for the night. She hadn't realized that she was actually hungry until her distractions had lessened. 

Rather than waste time trudging between rooms, she simply plunked herself down on the kitchen floor until she was done. 

_ Put your glass in the sink when you're done. Yes, Scarlet. _

She listened, though, letting the crumbs soak away while she concentrated on getting her bedroom back into a semblance of order. 

As the first rays of light began to creep over the horizon, Scarlet collapsed onto the bed, barely able to grab the doll from the dressing table and pull it to rest on the pillow beside her before succumbing to true dreams. 


	6. Falling: Pride

** The Usual Suspects: ** _ Final Fantasy VII was created by Square, and brought happiness to PS owners everywhere. Kaga, like Trav and Rebeka, is my own creation and brings happiness to...uh...me. _

* * *

"...thereby making x squared equivalent to - bah!" 

Scarlet growled softly as the thin line of ink flowing of the paper in front of her faltered, and ran dry. Irritably, she gave the pen a shake, then tossed it aside to clatter off the wall and roll to the foot of the bed. 

With a sigh, the girl slumped down in her chair. For the love of all that was greenish and glowing, what was the _ point? _ She could have squared x in her sleep, and connected wires while she was doing it, without ever worrying about showing her work in anything other than fire and blood. During her time in the slums, she'd forgotten just how tedious the rituals of formalized education were. 

"I need...I need...something." Helplessly, she raked a hand though the tousled mass of curls framing her face. "I..." Sapphire eyes cast about for a brief moment, and she lunged forward, tipping the chair onto two legs in her effort to reach the crumpled pack of cigarettes abandoned on the far side of the desk. Slender fingers closed around it at last, and she settled back with a thump that was sure to irk the downstairs neighbours. 

Damnation. One left. Scarlet dropped the empty cellophane in favour of her lighter once she'd shaken the last cigarette free, a flick of her thumb coaxing forth a bright glimmer of flame to pass from one to the other. She'd be going out to later get more, she knew already; but for the moment, it was enough to inhale deeply of the tightly-packed drug, and rest her head on the back of the chair. 

"Mm..." The sigh she breathed then was far more contented, and she closed her eyes, luxuriating in the calm brought by the indulgence. She'd fallen prey to more than one unsavoury habit at the college; the second the one that urged her to her feet and into the kitchen. 

Cigarette tucked securely between the first fingers of her left hand, the crimson-clad woman crouched before the liquor cabinet beneath the bar, considering. As she reached for the half-empty bottle of imported rum stashed in the back, the hollow chime of the door echoed through the apartment, and she growled again. 

"I ought not to even answer that," she mumbled, barely audible even to herself as she pushed herself once more upright. 

"Don't bother," came the reply. "I let myself in." 

Scarlet jumped, whirling around to glower at the intruder - even though she knew, without a doubt, who would be standing there even as she moved. She'd only heard the voice once before, but the rich timbre was one she wouldn't likely forget. 

"My. You look to be doing fairly well for yourself," he noted, tipping his head to the side to examine her. Dark eyes, dark hair; the former with one or two tiny lines that she knew hadn't been there before. 

"And you look as if you're worrying yourself to death," she retorted, tapping her nails on the counter. 

"You're going to get there before me if you keep that up." The corners of his mouth quirked into a thin, bitter smirk as he eyed the growing pile of ashes, and he stepped toward her, one arm sliding smoothly around her shoulders. Instantly, she jerked away, the action as futile as it had been the night she'd met him. "Unless you're trying to quit," he added, a brow lofting. "I've heard that makes some people bitchy." 

_ "You're _ making me bitchy," Scarlet snapped, settling uneasily into the embrace. 

"...and here I thought you'd be happy to see me. I'm wounded." 

"You are not." Her own lips twitched with faint amusement, and she glanced at him out of the corner of one glittering eye. "If you _ wanted _ to be, however, that can be arranged. Why the hell are you here? And how did you get in in the _ first _ place?" 

"Same old Scarlet." The man laughed, shaking his head. "Why do you always seem so hell-bent on castrating me when I come to give you presents?" 

"Because I don't trust you as far as I can drag you," she informed him. "Presents?" 

"Mm." A noncommittal reply if she'd ever heard one. "Get your coat. If you go out like that..." Again, the appraising eye ran over her, pausing briefly at the dip between her breasts. "...then again, I think I'd enjoy that." 

"Pervert," she snapped. 

"...you know you love it." Winking, he took his arm from her shoulders and nodded to the door. 

"What if I don't?" 

"Then I won't shoot you." With that, he stepped away. "Of course, you won't be shooting anything else, either, but you haven't been anyway. I'm sure it's no great loss." 

Scarlet's eyes narrowed, and she moved after him, gritting her teeth. Why did he always have to go for the _ one _ thing that would pique her damnable curiosity? 

_ Because he knows it will make you follow him. _

* * * 

"So. Where are you taking me this time?" she asked acidly once the doors of the lift had closed. 

"Mm." Again, he declined to reply with words, instead setting his arm once more around her. "You'll like it, I'm sure. You did last time, didn't you?" 

For a few minutes, the girl remained silent, finally admitting grudgingly, "Yes." 

"Well, there you go, then." He grinned, giving her shoulders a gentle squeeze. 

"You at least have a _ name? _ Give me something..." 

"I _ am _ giving you something." Already, she could sense his irritation, creeping into his voice as his fingers tightened on the upper portion of her arm. After a moment, his grip lessened, and he offered merely, "Kaga." 

Kaga. First name, last name; Scarlet had no idea. She nodded, falling silent as the ding of the lift signalled the end of their descent. 

It was late; enough so that even the doorman had gone home for the night. She hadn't realized how fast the hours had flown while she'd been calculating. As the pair exited into the deserted street, the girl shivered, and her companion tightened his arm again, drawing her closer. 

"Won't be long," Kaga murmured. 

"Until what?" Scarlet cocked her head to the side and peered at him curiously, though she doubted that he'd answer. 

"Waiting." He nodded in indication of the glow at the end of the street; a glow that swiftly brightened into the headlights of a sleek, over-long car. As it halted, he reached forward to grasp the doorhandle with his free hand, and nudged her forward. "Get in." 

For once, she didn't hesitate, scrambling quickly into the warmth of the limousine's interior. The dark-eyed man slid in after her and slammed the door, indicating the driver to proceed with a flick of his fingertips. 

Scarlet curled into the lush upholstery covering the seat, anticipating the replacement of Kaga's arm an instant before he lifted it. The windows were tinted heavily, preventing anyone without from seeing who rode inside, and, thusly, her from seeing out. With nothing better to do, she nestled against the man, listening to the hum of the engine. 

* * * 

Sapphire eyes drank in the exterior of Shin-Ra, Inc. as the pair approached the glass doors set in the center of the front wall, and Scarlet craned her head back slightly in order to get a better view. She'd seen the building before, of course; but from the far end of Midgar plate. Never from a close vantage point such as the one she had now. Almost immediately, her gaze flitted to Kaga, but his attention was elsewhere - namely, on the guards stationed at either side of the door. their attention, in turn, was on the thin, laminated card in his hand; similar to the keycards used at the apartments. Whatever it was, it had a similar effect as well; the nearer man stepping aside as soon as he'd gotten a good look at it. 

Plush, again. She'd been expecting that. Where her apartment was decked out in soft reds and creams, Shin-Ra Inc. was adorned with the more muted hues of brown and black, and, occasionally, a blue or a grey; offset by the small brass studs in the furniture and the potted plants against the walls. Above the door at the far end of the foyer was a portrait of a man she could only presume to be the head of the corporation; overweight, smoking a cigar, and looking, from the garish colours splattered across the canvas, as if he belonged in the gallery of sad clowns on black velvet rather than running a business. 

"This way." The quiet insertion of Kaga's voice into her reverie gave her a start, and she nodded, hurrying after him. It occurred to her that it was a good thing she'd never been claustrophobic, if she was going to be working in a sixty-plus story structure; but then, living below the plate didn't allow for fear of cramped spaces. It was all cramped spaces, some of them smaller than the lift she followed him into now. 

_ Twenty-three...twenty-four... _

"Oh, Scarlet?" 

Again, she jumped, twisting to face the man. 

"Yeah?" 

"Don't scream." With that cryptic instruction and a sharp jolt, the doors opened, and he stepped into the hallway. 

* * * 

The heavy, brass-handled doors, she had assumed to open on some sort of conference room, and she had been correct. The overwhelming theme here was "mahogany," it seemed; the lengthy table in the center of the room was lined on either side by chairs that had, apparently, been upholstered to match its sheen, and sinking into carpet of the same lush hue. Only half the seats were filled; the one at the far end of the table occupied by the heavyset man that she had seen on the portrait. 

The edges of her mouth curled slightly as she straightened and cast a languid glance around the rest of the room. _ It's time to impress someone, Scarlet. Yes, Scarlet. _

Kaga nodded, and she approached the end of the table nearer the doors, one brow quirking in defiant curiosity. Never let anyone scent your fear, never let them know you hurt. "Well, gentlemen?" After flipping a golden tress from her face, she rested her hand on her hip, and looked forward expectantly. "Can I help you with something?" 

_ Be charming... _

"This was designed by you, was it not?" At her right, a dark-suited man extended a folded scrap of paper. _ Ah, Trav... _ Scarlet reached for it, fingers already poised to flick it open. _ Would you have been the one handing me this, if things hadn't turned out as they have? _

She recognized it instantly, as crude as the coffee-splotched sketch was. The top of the gun, its underbelly, and no less than three different angles of its profile - it could have been yesterday, or a decade, but she would have known it anywhere; coffee, milk, mud, or blood. 

"I did, yes." Nodding, she turned to face her inquisitor. 

"How long did it take you to create the original prototype?" Again, he stretched his hand toward her. 

"Four years." Unable to discern any other reason for his doing so, she placed the diagram back into his palm and clasped her own hands behind her back, waiting for him to continue. 

The accompanying question came not from her associate, however, but the man at the opposite end of the table. 

"How long will it take you to put it back together?" 

"I don't know," she began, though she knew, even before she turned to counter the inquiry, what the answer would be. Before the sickening clink of loose metal in the box being placed on the table reached her ears. Before the admonishment followed. 

"Well, then, you'd best get to work." 


	7. Devotion: Restoration

** Disclaimer, Standard: ** _ Final Fantasy VII, Shin-Ra, and Scarlet are the property of Square, and that doesn't look to be changing any time soon. Kaga is, and forever will be, mine. _

* * *

"They took it _ apart!" _

Scarlet was dimly aware of Kaga's hand on her shoulder as she knelt over the box, fingers raking through its contents. It _ looked _ as if everything was there, but she couldn't be sure until she'd begun to piece it back together, and she had no idea of how long that would take. She knew _ how. _ It was simply the tedium of completing a task that had originally taken her years in what she was certain would be a greatly shortened timespan. 

"We had to," the man murmured, lips brushing her ear. She shrugged him away, driving her shoulder into his chest. 

"Don't distract me. This is _ your _ fault to begin with. That gun was working perfectly before you _ took it apart!" _ She snarled, casting a hateful glance over her shoulder. "Or at least, it should have been." 

"Alright." Kaga shrugged himself, and sat back. "And you're right, it _ should _ have been. But when the time came, it proved to be unfireable." 

The girl was silent for a lengthy amount of a time, enough to make him wonder exactly how far away he'd need to be to avoid being the target for a physical outletting of her rage. 

"You couldn't _ fire _ it because you're not _ me!" _ she screeched, turning around quickly enough to lay a stinging strike across his right cheek with the back of her hand. Okay, so the next Reactor over might have been a good choice - he really hadn't thought she'd attack him. "I had it rigged so no one else _ could! _ And if anyone had thought to _ ask _ me before mangling my life's work, I would have _ told _ you!" 

"I'll remember that, next time," he muttered, reaching up to rub his face. "It's too late to do anything about it now, save start again." 

"And you're going to be the first person I use it on when I'm finished," she informed him sweetly, lips thinning. 

"If you're going to be that way about it," he snapped, rising, "then you can do it alone, and I'll make sure it's taken out of your hands before you even get a chance to _ think _ about seeing it in use." 

Her eyes widened, and she reached toward him as he moved through the door. "Kaga, wait!" 

Once again, the dark-eyed man didn't answer, leaving the click of the lock to do so for him. 

"I didn't _ mean _ it!" Scarlet wailed, pawing helplessly at the wood between them. She was beginning to rethink that claustrophobia thing, now that she was back in a place she couldn't get out of. Even in the slums, she'd been able to pace from one room to another. Being confined to _ one _ was intolerable, especially one smaller than even her bedroom as a child in 6. "Kaga..." 

Sinking to the floor, she drew her knees to her chest and rested her chin in the hollow between, blinking away the haze of tears over her eyes. As soon as a sob threatened, however, she choked it back and ran a fingertip over her lashes. _ Once you're done, he'll let you out...right? Right. He has to. He won't get the gun, otherwise. Right? _

She made up her mind not to think about the alternatives rather quickly, and crawled over to the box. The sooner she was done, yes, the sooner she'd be out. Fingers dipped in, and closed around a wire, mocking her motions of far earlier in the evening. It _ had _ to be the last cigarette, didn't it? She'd kill for one. 

There was an amusing thought. Fix the gun, and hold Shin-Ra headquarters hostage for a smoke. She'd go down in a blaze of glory, alright; fire and blood and Mako glow. 

Pull yourself together, Scarlet. 

Yes, Scarlet. 

* * * 

Hours had passed since she'd begun the wearying task, or so she thought - there were no windows in the room, which she was beginning to suspect was on some basement level - and she'd only finished the reconstruction of the outer casing. The delicate connecting of the inner workings was what would take the _ real _ effort, and going by how long the shell had taken her... 

She was screwed, and not in a fun way. 

Her spine crackled audibly as she settled back against the wall and took a breath, eyes closing. 

"The least you could do would be to bring me a cup of tea," she muttered to the air. "Preferably spiked with something sharp." 

_ Needles... _

Scarlet became acutely aware, suddenly, of the pricklings in her fingertips, and winced. There was little enjoyment in numbness, and less in the commencement of circulation. Her hands flexed once, twice, and fell to her lap, and she sighed. 

Don't go to sleep, Scarlet. 

I'm not. 

With a start, she sat upright, whimpering. 

"I can't do this on no sleep," she whispered, reaching for another piece of the multicoloured metal in her lap even as she uttered the plea. "I can't see straight." 

How many times had she rewired something in 6 in complete darkness? 

How many times had she peeled the plastic coating from a cable in 4, trying to coax a panel back to life before SOLDIER came to investigate the outage? 

Do you know what I did to my apartment, Trav? 

Not Trav. Kaga. Trav's dead, and you're going to be joining him if you don't hurry up. 

Do you know what I did to my apartment, Kaga? 

I wouldn't poke around in there without me, if I were you. 

* * * 

Scarlet dropped the bundle of wires back to her lap and turned aside, bracing the heel of a hand against the floor. The sound of her coughing was sickening, spurring the latest session of dry heaving to be extended even further. She'd long since brought up what she'd eaten the day before; all that was left was the dull ache of muscles protesting their abuse. 

Vicious cycle. 

Almost done... 

No, you're not. Are you? 

I...don't know anymore. 

Weakly, she pushed herself back to a sitting position. "Trav," she murmured, habitually scrubbing the back of her hand across her mouth, "you are _ so _ going to owe me for this." 

Bleary eyes narrowed on the mangled strands in her lap, and she took them up once more, the pad of her thumb gently guiding the bare last inch of a thread-like toward the needle-eye hole behind the trigger. Not daring to breathe, she eased it into place, capturing it between flesh and steel as her free hand snatched up the top half of the casing from its place on the floor. 

A click; a click so nearly bordering on orgasmic satisfaction that she had to laugh; the sound echoing hollowly off the bare walls of the cramped room. Without hesitation, she placed the point of a nail into the groove of the last screw, and begun to turn the gun beneath her hand. 

"Trav..." Again, she giggled, cradling the object to her chest. "I'm done." 

That stated, Scarlet slumped forward and succumbed to darkness. 

* * * 

Hands, in her hair... 

"Scarlet. Come on, baby. Wake up." 

Scarlet stirred, only to curl more tightly in on herself. 

"Scarlet..." She could hear him sigh, though it sounded miles away. 

_ Am I dead yet? _

"You're incorrigible," he said, though whether he did so in response to her thoughts, or simply because she _ was, _ she couldn't tell. 

"Trav..." Yet again, she uttered the muted whisper; then, with a sniff, began the arduous task of getting herself back up. "Kaga?" 

"Careful." The man reached over to grasp her shoulder and steady her as she sat up. "You didn't have to _ kill _ yourself over it, you know." 

"What else was I going to do?" she muttered hoarsely. "You left me in here." 

"I was trying to startle you into acting a little more like a Shin-Ra employee, since that's what you seemed to want so badly. As opposed to, oh, say, a spoiled little brat who's had everything handed to her on a plate, even though she _ more _ than likely didn't deserve it." His eyes narrowed. 

Scarlet swallowed dryly, the analogy not lost on her. Quietly, she nodded, gaze following her hands as they fell to her lap. 

"I wasn't intending to leave you," he added softly. "Something fell apart unexpectedly." 

"...so you forgot," she murmured, stroking a fingertip lovingly over the barrel of the gun. 

"I forgot," he admitted, shrugging. "I really thought you'd have the sense to sleep once you got to that point, though, and give me a chance to sort matters out. I never imagined you'd push yourself for two days straight." 

"...two days?" The sapphire eyes blinked, refocusing on the glistening trail left on the gunmetal as her fingers passed over it. "I...think I'm bleeding." 

It was Kaga's turn to blink, then, and the man reached for her hand. Without a word, she placed the gun in his palm and returned her own to her lap, cradled one inside the other. 

"Scarlet..." 

"I left the chip out this time!" she announced abruptly, tearing her gaze away from the crimson fluid trickling from her fingertips. "So...you'll be able to use it now." Her voice cracked, and she looked away, no longer able to meet his eyes with her own. 

"Scarlet." He sighed again, tucking the weapon into the inner pocket of his coat. 

"Mm?" Distracted by the tiny lacerations covering her hands, she began to smear the excess blood on the wall. 

"Nevermind." Shaking his head, he closed the distance between himself and the girl on the floor, and scooped her up. Rather than protest, she simply wilted into his embrace, exhaustion taking hold once more. "No one around here has any sense to begin with, anyway. I don't know why I thought you would. You fit in far too well already." 

A faint, pained smile flickered on her lips for an instant. "And you thought you had to nudge me into place." 

"I'm going to do more than nudge you," he replied, smirking. 

"Oh?" She shifted slightly to look up at him. "What are you going to do...?" And yawned. "...shoot me?" 

"Something like that." The smirk deepened, and he leaned down, lips tracing a feathery path from the corner of her own mouth to her ear. "I remember meeting a whore in Sector Four some time back..." 

"That's the second-worst pick-up line I've ever heard, Kaga," she said, snorting lightly. It turned into another yawn, and she blinked rapidly, fighting the will of her eyes to close mid-conversation. 

"I don't need a pick-up line," he countered smoothly. "I've already picked you up, after all. All I have to do now is take you to bed." 


	8. Throwing Stones: Commendation

** Look, I was right! : ** _ Final Fantasy VII still belongs to Square. _

* * *

Through the curtain, Scarlet could hear the clamor of the crowd milling outside. The velvet drapery did little to muffle the din - its purpose was to obscure vision, not sound; and it was the latter that was tying her stomach in knots. 

_ It won't be long now. _ Reassured by the thought, the woman exhaled slowly. Four long years of effort were about to be paid off in one shining moment. 

_ You didn't think I could do it, did you? None of you did. _ Her lips curled into a sly, chilly smirk as she leaned back to rest her shoulders against the wall. She could remember as well as if it had been yesterday the stares she'd received the first time she walked into the lab at Midgar Tech; how quickly they'd turned to curses when her previous existence in the slums had come to light. Not the details of how she'd eked it out - though those would give her classmates a _ real _ shock, she knew - but rather, the fact that she'd lived there at all. 

_ Slumdweller. _

It hadn't been a hard thing to discern. The majority of the student body was made up of pampered, privately-schooled brats - coquettish debutantes, and their boyfriends chosen from only the most affluent of families. They may as well have been raised as a hive, with their structured playdates, their ten-thousand gil a year primary school tuitions, their invitation-only dances; and spotting an outsider in their midst had become as simple for them as picking out the kitten in a pack of feral dogs. And Scarlet, unfamiliar in her dress of crimson silk and painted lips, had been spotted with ease. 

But she was no kitten. 

The days of schoolyard catfights had passed long before Scarlet had arrived on the plate; this was University, with no room for such fiascos. Even so, the lack of direct physical violence hadn't prevented anyone from assaulting her with words and spittle. Her clothes, while fashionable, were worn in a manner that suggested she had no clue as to what was currently stylish; long, low-cut dresses better suited to a night on the town than an afternoon in class. Her knowledge of Midgar politics and events - save where they pertained to Shin-Ra, Incorporated - was negligible at best; and her words were laced with hints of an accent that proved itself to be wholly untraceable to the dialects of the surface cities. 

A Sector accent. 

What else could she have been, under those circumstances? Nothing the higher-class students at Midgar Tech could comprehend - and so she'd become the year's object of scorn. She wasn't the first progeny to find herself on the plate because of her skills; but as the rift between surface and slums had widened, the occasions of it had dwindled so much as to make a situation formerly considered little more than an oddity a true rarity. 

She'd borne their disdain, their barbs, their out-and-out insults. Necessity had forced her to adopt an air of nonchalance - as much as she came to hate her peers, she feared her benefactors more. Scarlet knew that if she proved herself incapable of dealing with the tasks set before her, Kaga would have no qualms about tossing her aside in favour of someone more competent - and without his backing, there would be little chance that she could support herself well enough to remain on the plate. 

Over time, as it became obvious that their attacks were having no effect on the strange woman, they'd begun to leave her alone. The taunting ceased, but there were never any apologies. Nor were there any hands extended, and truth be told, she preferred it that way. The concept of true friendship was very nearly unknown to her - those she'd had as a child had been severed when Rebeka had returned to the slums, and opportunities to form new ones had never been forthcoming thereafter. Not when you're alone among the people who killed your only real family. Not when you're planning to betray those people the first chance you get. Not when you do. 

She wondered, sometimes, if any of her former associates were aware of where she'd gone. To her knowledge, no one had seen her leave - at least, not anyone who would have realized; not anyone who would have thought to mention that a whore had accompanied one of her clients beyond the 8-stop. That didn't mean that she hadn't been, of course; Scarlet knew as well - or better - than anyone else just how many eyes the underground had. But she hadn't returned that night, or the next, or any after that - for all anyone in the slums knew, she might have been killed by the man she'd left with. It happened from time to time; and who would really miss a streetwalker with a knack for wiring? With her flat burned out, there would be no evidence left behind to suggest otherwise - she might even have been found out by SOLDIER, and been "removed." It happened. 

No, she might not have been one of them, those prim-and-proper-seeming princesses; but she wasn't a slumdweller, either - and after tonight, she never would be again. 

Her eyes opened as the first strains of music filtered backstage; an alma mater she'd never bothered learning. Yes, tonight all eyes would be on her again; but it would be for what she'd become, not what she'd been. 

"Graduating with honours. Scarlet Kirana." 


	9. Reaping: Gratitude

** Rejoice: ** _ Final Fantasy VII may be copyright Square, but Kaga and Travyn belong to me! _

* * *

Scarlet swallowed dryly as the words reached her ears. That was the downside to her accomplishments - she'd have to be the first to walk onstage in front of a thousand eyes she didn't know, and smile as if she didn't care. Tradition be damned - what was the point? The work was done, the marks were hers. What difference was it going to make if she didn't accept a symbolic piece of paper from the hand of a man she'd impressed long before, and cared little about? 

Well, for one, it was going to irk the princess behind her, and as attractive as the prospect of further annoying the girl was now that she'd never see her again, it wasn't worth it. She'd finally proved herself better than them, after all, and that in itself was sweet enough revenge. Smoothing down the uncharacteristically-dark cloth that enveloped her form, she stepped through the curtain. 

_ One foot in front of the other. It isn't hard. And there's really no reason for you to be nervous. These people don't give a damn about you, you don't give a damn about them, and that's the way it should be. _ Still, though, she couldn't shake the sudden fear that gripped her as she approached the Dean. 

_ They're all looking at me, and it doesn't matter, because Trav's not here. _ Her throat tightened with the realization, and her steps faltered as her concentration shifted to fighting back the tears that sprang unbidden to blue eyes. _ I won't cry. I will ** not ** give these fools the satisfaction of seeing me cry. _

The distance between herself and the head of Midgar Tech was closed numbly; the hand that clasped around her own unfelt. Some compliment was uttered; some meaningless praise that went unheard as she took the rolled parchment from his grasp. Would she say a few words? Doubtless, her emotion would be attributed to joy if she faced the crowd, but there was nothing for her to say - or, rather, no one to hear it. The woman shook her head and turned away. 

Dark eyes, dark hair. 

Startled, Scarlet paused halfway to the dais of chairs that waited at the back of the stage, her own gaze lifting to sweep across the crowd. Yes, there he was; seated in the first row behind the orchestra - and that cold feeling of apprehension assailed her again; coursing through her veins to gather in the pit of her stomach. 

He rose abruptly, picking his way toward the door. She knew the man too well, however, to believe that he'd simply vanish now that he'd seen what he came for - he'd never appeared without some vague pronouncement that would turn her world upside-down one way or another. Somewhere, sometime, he'd be waiting for her. 

This time, she didn't intend to make him wait. 

It was easier for her to retrace her steps to the front of the stage than it had been to take them the first time around, ignoring the protests of the Dean and the indignant squeal of the princess in the limelight as she brushed past them. The black robe was shed as she made her way down the steps at the far side of the orchestra pit; abandoned in a puddle of heavy fabric to leave the woman clad in the gown she'd planned to wear for the banquet after the ceremony's completion. So much for that - just another item in the long list of plans that were inevitably altered when Kaga paid Scarlet a visit. 

By the time she pushed through the crowd to exit the building herself, he was gone from sight. Her eyes narrowed as she paused again to catch her breath - he couldn't have gotten far. When a cursory glance around her produced no results, she inhaled deeply and called out. 

"Kaga!" 

Her reply was silence. 

"Kaga! Get _ back _ here, you bastard!" 

"I'm right here, my dear," he remarked smoothly as he stepped around the corner. "You don't have to yell." 

"Yes, I do," she assured him, scowling. 

"If you want something to yell about, you know I'll be happy to provide it." Arms enfolded the woman warmly, pulling her close. 

"What do you think you're doing now, then?" Scarlet retorted, shoving him away. 

For once, he allowed her to win the mock-battle and released the embrace. "My, my. Such gratitude for the man who made this all possible for you." His eyes moved over her form slowly; fixing at last on the scrap of paper in her hand. 

She growled softly; arms crossing over her breasts as if the gesture would dissuade him from leering at her. "What do you want?" 

A brow arched. "What, I can't come watch the girl I've put so much time and money into finally prove that she was worth it? Though," he added as he approached her again, "if you're dead-set on me wanting something more..." This time, he stepped behind her; encircling her waist as his lips dropped to murmur the promise against her ear. 

Again, she jerked away. "Oh, shove it, Kaga," she snapped, pivoting on the ball of a foot to face him once more. "You and I both know that didn't you come here to watch me, or praise me, or even to fuck me. So why don't you spill it and save us both the trouble of playing this game for once?" 

His lips pursed; the expression meant to hint that she'd wounded him with her words. "Why, Scarlet," he purred slowly. "I thought you enjoyed these little games." 

She was silent; her head bowed. "Please, Kaga..." 

"Alright." The man nodded quietly. "Would you like to talk over dinner?" He extended his hand. 

"That would be nice," Scarlet agreed. Her gaze rested for a moment on the outstretched appendage. As she reached forward, his fingers closed over her own, and he smiled. 

* * * 

The limousine was waiting as they rounded the corner; its engine still humming softly to indicate that it hadn't been turned off. As always, Kaga opened the door with one hand and ushered Scarlet in with the other; then slid in himself. 

There was another man in the car this time; one with dark eyes and lengthy hair so similar to her stepfather's that her composure was lost for a matter of seconds. As she curled into the seat, she had to force herself not to stare at him; her gaze focused instead on the roll of paper in her hands. 

_ You have to get over this, Scarlet. Travyn's dead, and you can't go around thinking every guy you see with dark hair and brown eyes is him. You'll go mad. _

_ I know, I know. _ The woman sighed. She _ did _ know, but it was so hard to let go... 

"Are you even listening to me, Scarlet?" 

Scarlet jumped as the words cut through her reverie, and peeked up nervously. "Sorry, Kaga...I got distracted for a second. What were you saying?" 

Kaga rolled his eyes. "This is Tseng," he repeated, indicating the man on the other side. "He's a...business associate of mine, you might say." 

No, he _ wasn't _ Trav; but now that she had a reason to study his appearance, she could see that the resemblance was close enough to be painful. Tseng was her age, she guessed, give or take a year or two; and she found herself wondering if this was indeed what Travyn had looked like when he was younger. She'd never been able to fault Rebeka for being attracted to him, as she had some of her mother's other paramours. If he hadn't become her father, she might have - 

_ That _ train of thought was interrupted as she caught both Tseng and Kaga staring at her expectantly. Stumbling over a "Hello," she forced a smile, and settled back into the lush upholstery of the car's interior. 

Tseng nodded politely, and returned his attention to Kaga. 

* * * 

Despite her efforts to the contrary, Scarlet was again kept waiting by Kaga. The man had been more-or-less silent for the entirety of the meal; the only words to pass his lips being the sort of inane small talk normally exchanged over filet mignion. Now, the restaurant had begun to empty out; leaving only the three of them still seated at the tables along the glass wall. 

The Galaxy View was located on an upper floor of one of the numerous business towers in Midgar, and the skyline visible from the window was one of the prime draws for its clientele. Darkness had fallen hours before, and the lights of the city spread in three directions to form an artificial reflection of the stars overhead. It was this that Kaga's eyes were fixed upon as he leaned back in his seat and lifted his hand to summon the waitress. 

"Another round." 

There was nothing else said as they awaited the woman's return. Even after the drinks had been delivered and privacy resumed, the silence continued for long moments. Scarlet stared into the bottom of her glass, watching the ripple of her reflection in the crimson liquid. 

_ Red. The colour of wine. The colour of blood. The colour of me. _

"What are you going to do now, Scarlet?" Kaga's voice, kept low to prevent the conversation from carrying, insinuated itself easily into her thoughts. 

"I don't know," she replied quietly, not looking away from the wine. "My instructors said that I could likely go on to get my Master's and Doctorate without trouble." 

"What are you going to _ do _ with it, though?" he pressed. "Hell, Scarlet, I'd wager that you knew more before you came to the plate than they could ever teach you that would be any more useful than what you know now." 

Her head snapped up, a few golden tresses falling from her coiffure to dance around her cheeks. "Why did you bother enrolling me, then?" she demanded. "I could have saved four years of degradation and gone straight to something worthwhile." 

"You were untrained." He shrugged, admiring the sparkle of the lighter liquid in his own glass as he held it up to the light. "Tseng was practically born into this life - he's been readied for the day when he takes over our department since the day he could walk and talk. You, on the other hand..." His hand lowered, and he shifted to face the woman fully. "You were a chance, Scarlet. A lucky chance. If your mother hadn't remarried, no one would have even known you existed. We had no way of knowing whether your skills were a one-time fluke or genuine aptitude, let alone whether or not we could shape them - and you - into what we were looking for. 

"We weren't going to waste our time on a girl from the slums who might turn out to be nothing more than the whore she passed herself off as," he continued. "If you failed early on, we'd know that we could send you back with nothing to fear. Had we taken you straight into the fold and allow you to fail there, we'd have been left with a woman with no real use and too much information." The man straightened, unbuttoning his jacket with one hand as nimbly as he had the night he'd met her; the whore in the slums. Light glinted off metal as he held one side of the garment away from his body; just enough to allow Scarlet to see the weapon tucked into an inner pocket. Still there, after all these years. 

"So you decided to test me," she murmured. "With something that didn't matter, so that you wouldn't have to kill me. Because you knew that if I couldn't make it through Tech, I'd never be able to handle...whatever it is that you have planned for me now." 

"I always told you that you learned quick," he agreed, closing his coat. "Though you shouldn't take that to mean that I wouldn't have done it anyway, had it become necessary." 

"Or that you still won't," she noted dryly. 

"Exactly." Across the table, Tseng mirrored Kaga's smirk. She shot him a glare, then looked back to her benefactor. 

"So...what are you saying, then?" She shook her head, another lock of hair coming free of the pins. "That you want me to give up everything that I've earned for myself because I've passed your little test, and now you want me to come work for _ you? _ " 

"Not for me, Scarlet." He reached into the lining of his coat again, and she shrank back - though it was silly to think that even Kaga would have the gall to shoot her in the middle of the Galaxy View - right? 

When he placed the small, laminated card on the table in front of her, Scarlet could do little more than stare uncomprehendingly at the words printed beneath the plastic coating. 

_ Shin-Ra, Incorporated   
Access Authorization   
-   
Scarlet Kirana   
Dept. of Weapons Development   
563-A7   
_

"Shin-Ra wants you, Scarlet," Kaga said softly. "Shin-Ra _ needs _ you, far more than any task I could ever find for you would. I told you the night I took the gun that you'd have the means to create and perfect as many as you wanted. This is the means." He tapped the card, pushing it toward her. 

"I don't understand," she whispered finally. "If I'm not working for you, then why did you go to all this trouble? What are you, the Shin-Ra talent scout?" 

Kaga simply blinked at her, then began to chuckle quietly. "That's a rather apt description, actually." 

"We're Turks, Scarlet," Tseng interjected smoothly. "Shin-Ra pays us to take care of things they don't want to be bothered with doing themselves; either because they're too insignificant, or too underhanded to be good for their image. At times, if we find a promising candidate that might be an asset, we give them a hand in getting there." 

Scarlet simply nodded, studying the card silently for a few seconds longer. At last, she lifted it from the surface of the table to be clutched tightly between her fingertips. "Thank you, Kaga," she murmured as she rose. 

Dark eyes blinked again as the woman's arms curled around him; though if he was truly surprised by the action, he gave no other sign of it. He drew her into his lap, his lips sweeping once more along the edge of her ear. 

"You're welcome." 

* * *

_ ** Author's Note: ** I was not, originally, planning on putting both chapters up the same week, but Chapter Eight is really too short to leave on its own. Nine, coincidentally, is the last chapter I have pre-written, and as it closes one arc of Scarlet's life, it seemed fitting to close out the year with it as well. There will be more, but tonight, I can't tell you when. I'm sick and depressed, and my Muse is being a right little bitch when it comes to this fic. Too, I've been considering working on some of the other fics I've got set aside before I come back to this one, just as a change of pace. I don't know when those will go up, either, but rest assured they will eventually. I, of course, will be lurking nearby at all times, demanding well-written madness and yaoi goodness from all! ^^-v- (Leaving with a threat is always such fun...hey...why are you looking at me like I'm insane? What are you going to do with those restraints? And will I like it?)   
Ato de, min'na-san.   
~Scarle _


End file.
